


put a ring on it

by belovedmuerto



Series: in a cabin in the woods [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, put a ring on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: "We should get married."“We’ve been married since my eighteenth birthday,” Steve points out.





	put a ring on it

**Author's Note:**

> This is my sixth fic posted this year. That seems like not a lot to me. Happy New Year everyone, and here's to posting more fic in 2018! 
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd so if there's anything glaring, feel free to point it out.

They’re both coming off of a bad week; nightmares, mostly, but that leads to crankiness and endless picking at each other that isn’t in the fun way, the whole nine yards, and they’re both tired with it. Listless, lethargic. Neither of them is really in a bad mood anymore, the prickliness that they both get when they haven’t been sleeping well worn away by the sheer exhaustion of several days in a row of basically no sleep.

Steve’s honestly not sure which of them started it, who set whom off, who had the first royally shitty night. They seem to switch off, lately, when it happens at all. So it could have been either of them, but they’re both suffering for it.

Thankfully, these nights, these weeks are fewer and further between than they used to be. Bucky has a therapist in Silver Spring that he still sees once a month, a trauma specialist he found on his own (he and Nat vetted her together) and has quietly been seeing for years, and emails whenever he needs to. Steve has a priest, at the seminary in Baltimore, who also happens to have an LCSW as well as a couple other degrees in psychology. And theology, for that matter. Steve likes him; he calls him on his shit.

Today has been a bit better. He’s too tired to be angry all day and annoyed at everything, and Bucky seems to be in the same place. He hasn’t even tried to go out to his workshop, which is probably for the best, seeing as he works with sharp objects and wood. He’s been sort of floating around the house like a listless ghost, the dogs all following close at his heels. 

They can tell that things are not quite right with Steve and Bucky, and it makes them all a little bit clingy, especially Daisy. She’s a worryer.

They’d gone out for a walk a little while ago, Bucky mumbling something to Steve about just needing some air when he’d left with all three of the dogs in tow. Steve had let them go; perhaps a little distance between them would be helpful for both of them.

He had gone up to his studio and cracked open all of the windows, despite the cold air and sat down in front of his current project.

Mostly he’s been staring at it, letting his mind wander. He’d done a little sketching, but he doesn’t really have the energy for much more than that.

Steve is still sitting there, slumped over on his stool, in front of his painting, when Bucky comes back with the dogs. Steve vaguely registers that they’re back and goes back to what he’s working on.

Bucky is preceded by the dogs, swarming up into the studio, excited (well, two of them anyway) and happy to be home, happy to see Steve. Hooch immediately goes for his bed in the corner and curls up, but Sweet Pea and Daisy run around for a minute before they get settled. Steve ignores it all.

Bucky comes up behind him, puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, and Steve tilts his head a little so Bucky can lean down and press a kiss to his neck. It’s quick but tender, and they don’t speak to each other. He runs his hand down Steve’s back, and goes over to shut the windows, then to the couch in the corner, laying down and stretching out, pulling the blanket over himself.

Steve doesn’t look, but he assumes that Bucky has a book, because usually he does when he comes up here to hang out with Steve. He usually has a book almost everywhere he goes, especially now that he can keep them on his phone, too.

The rustling of pages filters through Steve’s fugue, and he knows that Bucky has an actual book, this time.

For a while, there’s only the quiet sounds of the dogs breathing, Bucky turning the pages of his book, and Steve’s pencil against paper. It’s nice. He finds it really soothing, which after the last week or so is pretty much a miracle.

He hears Bucky speaking to him, but he doesn’t really register it at first. When it filters through his brain that Bucky had asked him something, he finally looks up, twisting around to look at Bucky, all casual-like on the couch with the book resting on his chest. He glances over at Steve, and Steve thinks something is not quite right.

“Hmm?”

“I said, we should get married.”

Steve blinks a couple of times.

Bucky glances over at him again, and Steve wonders if Bucky is somehow nervous.

“We’ve been married since my eighteenth birthday,” Steve points out. 

Bucky makes a noise, looks back at his book. “Yeah but. Like. Legal.”

Steve shrugs, watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye. “Never cared much about legal, Buck.”

It’s true; he doesn’t care that they never got married legally. Up until recently, it wasn’t legal for them to get married. Back in their day, it hadn’t even been legal for them to be together. None of that has ever mattered to Steve, as long as he knew he had Bucky, and that Bucky had him. He didn’t need a piece of paper, he just needed Bucky.

He’d thought they were on the same page about that.

Maybe not.

“No shit you never cared about legal,” Bucky mutters.

Bucky seems more upset by this conversation than Steve thinks he should be. Steve has to think about it for a minute. Is he being too flip about it? Is it just because of how little sleep they’ve been getting? He knows that it’s affecting his mood, his reactions. He can’t imagine it’s not affecting Bucky as well.

“Legal’s not the same as right,” Steve points out, softly.

Bucky makes another noise, something between a scoff and a sob, maybe. When Steve twists to look over his shoulder again, the book is over Bucky’s face, and it hits Steve hard and sudden that he’s fucked this up, somehow.

This is important to Bucky. 

They still have trouble, sometimes, talking about the important things. Talking about the feelings that are the hardest to articulate.

It’s a work in progress. For both of them.

Steve puts down his sketchbook and crosses the room to the couch. He pulls back the blanket and eases himself down on one knee, between Bucky’s outstretched legs, and slowly lowers himself onto Bucky, resting his head on Bucky’s chest, over his heart. He does his best to cover them both with the blanket.

Bucky’s arms go immediately around him, helping him spread out the blanket and then resting his hands on his back, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He hasn’t broken anything irreparable if Bucky still wants to hold him.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, before Steve speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Bucky shakes his head, and Steve looks up at him, reaches up and plucks the book off his face. Bucky is frowning, his eyes shut.

“I didn’t know this was important to you,” he goes on, and Bucky’s arms tighten around him. “You didn’t tell me.” Steve is careful to keep any accusation from his voice. They’re both bad at this still. It takes practice. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

Bucky makes another noise, not as sad as the last one.

“This is important to you,” Steve says. “ _Of course_ we can get married.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Steve listens to the air enter and leave his lungs.

Things are quiet.

\----

At some point, Steve must doze off, because he wakes up again, still with Bucky’s arms around him, still on the couch. Bucky’s book is resting on his back while he reads. His heartbeat is steady under Steve’s ear.

“Hi,” Bucky mumbles, pressing his lips briefly against the top of Steve’s head.

“We should go to bed early tonight,” Steve responds, mostly mumbling the words into Bucky’s chest, where he’s rubbing his nose. He wriggles a bit, stretching out and then curling up again.

“Mmm,” Bucky agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, after a while. 

“Stop apologizing, Steve. It’s okay.”

Steve manages to stay quiet for nearly five whole minutes before he speaks again. “I don’t like upsetting you, Buck.”

Bucky snorts. “The fuck you don’t.”

“Not for real, Buck. And I’m sorry.” Steve tries to lift his head and look at Bucky, but Bucky shoves him back down.

“Yeah well,” Bucky says. There’s laughter in his voice now, and Steve’s relief is monumental. “You’re a dumbass, Rogers. Why anyone would marry you, let alone twice, is beyond me.”

“Hey!” Steve pokes Bucky just under the ribs, where he’s most ticklish. Bucky squeals and twists away, and for a minute they wrestle on the couch; Bucky’s book falls to the floor, and both of them are laughing.

When they settle again, Steve reaches out and picks up the book, holding it up so Bucky can take it back. Based on the cover, Steve surmises that it’s a fantasy novel of some sort. 

“See if you get laid tonight,” he mutters, settling back into his comfortable position, using Bucky as a body pillow.

Bucky chuckles a little. For a while he doesn’t answer. Steve knows he will have a reply, eventually.

And he does. He shifts a little so he can murmur in Steve’s ear, “Mmmm, I think I’d like to ride you tonight.”

Steve moans. “Low blow, Buck.” He lifts his head, and Bucky is smirking at him. For a moment, they just look at each other, Steve attempting to glare and mostly failing, Bucky still smirking because he knows he’s got Steve right where he wants him.

“C’mon,” Bucky says eventually. “Let’s go get some dinner first. Then bed.”

“Okay.” Steve levers himself up to his hands and knees--

“Keep that in mind, too,” Bucky quips.

Steve lets his head hang, but he’s laughing. “Food first, then sex.”

“Best plan you ever had, Stevie.”

——

Later, after they’ve made dinner and eaten, fed and watered the dogs and cats and gotten the dogs settled in for the night, after Bucky takes Steve to bed and thoroughly has him, after they’ve begrudgingly cleaned up but are both still a sweaty and reveling in the afterglow, after, after, after, Steve says, voice soft in the darkness of their room, “Is it ok if I think of it as renewing our vows?”

Bucky takes a sharp breath, almost a gasp, and Steve thinks maybe he’s just realized that this is the part that is important to Steve. As important as the legality of it is to Bucky.

“Of course it is,” Bucky says, squeezing him tight for just a moment. “I think I didn’t really word it right, earlier.”

Steve turns his head and presses a kiss to Bucky’s chest, which he’s been using as a pillow again. Bucky is very comfortable, although he’s certain that Bucky thinks that of him as well. They’re just comfortable people, Steve supposes.

“You going to treat me right and plan a nice, romantic proposal?” Steve asks.

“No, I just mean-- I don’t think I explained myself very well. I know you don’t need us to be legally married, because you’re right we already are married and that _counts_ , it does, but I just--”

“You do,” Steve fills in, soft.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. He sounds a little anxious, a little annoyed. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week. If something happened to you. Or me.”

Steve wriggles up so he can kiss him, soft, tender. “You’ve been having that dream again, huh?”

Bucky sighs against his lips. “Yeah, that too.”

They both know the dream that Steve is referring to. Bucky’s been having it off and on, for years. It is not a good dream. Sometimes they can pinpoint a reason why Bucky’s having it. Sometimes it happens for no reason at all, unfortunately.

“Buck, I’m with you. You don’t need to be rational about this, ok?”

“But you don’t really get why I want it to be legal, do you?”

Steve shrugs a little. “No, I understand. I don’t really feel that call the way you do, but I understand. Will you let me plan it? I want to. For you.”

“You want to do that?”

“I do,” Steve says, and kisses him again. 

Bucky smiles into the kiss. “Man with a plan, huh?”

“Ugh, shut up, asshole.” Steve kisses him again, and they both shut up.

\----

Steve starts planning first thing the next morning, mulling things over while he’s on his run. He has a few ideas already, but mostly he wants to keep it very short and simple, and private. Hopefully, Bucky will be on the same page as him.

“You don’t want anything big, right?”

The first time he asks, Bucky isn’t even out of bed yet; Steve has just returned from his run and is stripping off in preparation for getting in the shower. Bucky’s response is indistinct enough that it shouldn’t be understandable, but Steve gets the “fuck off right now” clear enough. He just laughs and makes his retreat until after he’s showered and brought Bucky a cup of coffee.

“So, nothing big, right?” He pokes the lump of blankets and comforters that is Bucky in what he guesses is the approximate region of his ass.

Bucky twitches the covers aside and sees the cup of coffee Steve has waiting for him. He sits up, sort of, and takes it from him. “We can just go to the courthouse or something, Stevie. Nothing major, I don’t need that.” He’s still mumbling around slurping up his coffee, but Steve grins all the same.

“Just the piece of paper?” He’s smiling when he asks.

Bucky smiles back. “Just the piece of paper, yep.”

“What about doing it here?”

“Here where?”

“Outside? By the alpacas? That could be nice.”

“Sure, that works. Might be cold, though.”

“We’ll wear those scarves I made. And nice sweaters.”

“Okay.” The slight flush to his cheeks tells Steve that he’s hit on something here. Good. He doesn’t want to make this a big thing, but he wants to give Bucky what he wants. What he needs.

“Can you put up some sort of canopy in the next couple weeks? Like, at the end of where we’re wearing a patch in the grass to go down to the pasture?”

“Sure, that won’t take too long.”

“Do you want to write your own vows?”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m good either way.”

“Do you want to do it around Christmas?”

Bucky thinks on that one for a few minutes. “How about New Years?”

“I like it.”

“Good, let’s do it.”

\----

He’s got an officiant booked within a week, for New Year’s Eve, at their house. He’s got sketches of how he wants to mark a little path for them to walk together, from the house to where Bucky’s building a little trellis. He’s ordered the lanterns and they’ve talked about having dinner after the ceremony. Now it’s time to call Natasha and Sam.

He calls Natasha first, because she’s Natasha, and she’ll know if she isn’t his first call. Sam will understand.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Did you call for a reason Rogers, or just to say hey?”

“Just to say hey, actually.” Steve can’t keep the smile off his face, and he knows that she hears it in his voice.

“Liar.”

“Buck and me are getting married.”

“I thought you already did that.”

“We did, ages ago when we were practically still kids. Bucky wants to make it legal.”

Natasha chuckles. “He’s putting a ring on it, huh?”

“Oh. I don’t know. We haven’t talked about rings, I have to ask him about that later.”

“Oh my god, Rogers.”

He understood that reference (because Bucky has a fondness for Beyonce), but he doesn’t bother explaining that to her. He has more important questions. “Will you come? I think it would be nice if you’d be one of our witnesses. We need two, I think. I have to check. It’s on my list.”

“Are you asking me to be your best man?”

“No, I’m asking you to be Bucky’s best man. Sam’s gonna be mine. Hopefully.”

“Wow, you guys are super romantic.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is.”

“Great. Thanks, Nat.”

“Text me the details, Steve.”

“Will do, thanks Natashenka.”

She hangs up on him.

Steve laughs.

\----

“Hey Sam, how’s it going?”

“Hey brother, I’m good. Happy holidays!”

“Happy holidays. How’s your mom?”

“She’s good. Been asking after you and your boy. You should come up here for Easter next year. She’d love that.”

“That sounds awesome. Listen, Buck and me are getting married.”

“Again?”

“Well, it wasn’t legal before?”

“Oh that’s right, it was like nineteen thirty something, and on a rooftop. I guess it wasn’t.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Sam goes quiet, pointedly.

“Anyway, can you come down here and be my best man? Or witness, whatever. We need two. I checked.”

“You already called Natasha?”

“Of course I already called Natasha.”

“Just checking, man. You know she’d have your balls if you hadn’t called her first. Hell, mine too.”

“I know, Sam. I’m not suicidal.”

“You better not be!” Bucky yells from across the house. Steve hadn’t even heard him come back in.

“I called Nat first!” Steve yells back.

On the phone, Sam laughs.

“Hey, maybe you ain’t so stupid after all!” Buck yells back.

“Course not, you got all the stupid in this relationship!” 

“Send me the details,” Sam says, laughing, before he hangs up on Steve. But Steve is already stalking through the house to tackle Bucky.

\----

Natasha and Sam arrive together, the morning of the thirty first. They do that appearing thing that Natasha always does, where they don’t know she’s showing up until she walks up the driveway. Sam is at her side this time, looking like he’s taking notes on how Natasha does that. 

There’s not really too much prep to do, since they’re keeping things so simple. Bucky’s already started putting things together for dinner after the ceremony, and there’s champagne chilling in the fridge, since it’s New Year’s Eve and all. Steve moves around Bucky in the kitchen that morning, putting together a pie for dessert. He’s got his apple pie almost as good as the way his Ma used to make it. Not quite, but he doesn’t think it will ever taste exactly right. It’s good, though.

Steve has already set out the little lanterns, in the light snow that’s fallen over the last few days, and stamped out the path so hopefully no one slips on the walk, and he’s draped the trellis that Bucky built with some cloth. The day is bright and clear, with just a few clouds on the horizon. It’s cold, but not so cold that they’ll all freeze during the ten minute ceremony.

Everything is pretty much ready. Everything looks good. Bucky’s been grinning like he can’t help himself for days.

They went and talked to the officiant a few days ago, and got the license all taken care of. It’s on the dining room table, waiting to be signed by everyone.

Everything is ready. Dinner is all set up, and Bucky has been handling that since this morning. Sam and Natasha are both off changing into their wedding gear (layering up, basically).

Steve is nervous.

He shouldn’t be, but he is.

\----

Bucky finds him in their room, staring at the clothes he’s supposed to be changing into. (Bucky had picked out clothes for them, because he has better style than Steve. Always has, always will. Steve’s only contribution to their outfits is the scarves that he’d made for both of them. They don’t quite match, but they do coordinate.)

“Steve—“ he starts to say, before apparently changing his mind.

Steve glances at him over his shoulder and smiles. “I was just thinking.”

“You’ll hurt yourself doing that, sweetheart.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can’t help feeling overwhelmed with tenderness for Bucky. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Bucky grins at him, incandescent. Happier than Steve has seen him in a long time. More than just those last few weeks where he was thinking about this all the time, apparently worrying about telling Steve. He looks like a weight has been lifted, and Steve resolves right there never to let Bucky be less than incandescently happy again, not if he can help it. It settles him. It’s a plan. He likes having a plan.

He crosses over to Bucky and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “We better get dressed, huh?”

Bucky smiles at him, pulls him in again before releasing him. “Yeah, don’t wanna be late for our own wedding.”

“I think they’ll wait.”

Bucky nudges him back towards his side of the bed, where his clothes are. “Get dressed, Stevie.”

\----

Sam and Natasha are waiting for them on the porch, surrounded by the dogs, who are all wearing nice warm sweaters that Steve had made for them last year when he first got started really knitting. They’ve all had baths and are wearing doggy grins, happy with all the people around and with how happy both of their people are. Daisy’s been wearing a pittie grin all day.

Steve and Bucky join everyone on the porch, and the officiant smiles up at them from the bottom of the steps, and walks down the little path to stand under the trellis Bucky had put up. 

Sam and Natasha go next, taking up places on either side, turning to watch Steve and Bucky.

They look at each other. Bucky takes Steve’s hand with a soft smile. “Here we go.”

Steve can’t help grinning back at him. “Last chance to back out.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Shut up I would never. Married you once already, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice soft, heart so full it feels like he might burst with happiness. “You did. You schmuck.”

Bucky kisses him through his smile, and takes his hand. “Let’s do this.”

\----

After the words are said, and everyone including Natasha has wiped their eyes dry, after the license is signed, the officiant takes her leave, even though they invite her to stay for dinner. Bucky disappears into the kitchen to get back to getting their meal together, and the other three end up following him in there. The kitchen isn’t that big, but it’s big enough for the four of them to hang out.

Steve gets out the flutes that he’d ordered special for just this occasion, and then goes to get the champagne out of the fridge (there’s a few bottles of it. Good stuff). There’s another bottle in there, one that… sort of glows. Steve pulls it out, holding it up.

“Hey Buck, where’d this come from?”

Bucky glances up from his work. “Dunno, what is it?”

“I dunno.” Steve shrugs, and puts the bottle on the counter while he turns to grab the champagne. He hands that off to Sam, who takes it and starts to peel the foil off while Steve inspects the mystery bottle. There’s a card tied to the neck that just says “Congratulations, friends!” in large, looping handwriting. Steve has an inkling.

He pulls the stopper out of the bottle and smells it. It smells like honey and happiness, somehow. Mostly it smells like honey, but there’s something else there, that puts him in mind of childhood, of those rare times when he wasn’t sick, of Bucky’s hugs, and his Ma and her comforting embrace and her apple pie and he’s pretty sure he knows what this is. He grabs two water glasses out of the cabinet (because what do you drink magical Asgardian mead out of, really?) and pours out a tiny bit into each. He hands one off to Bucky. “Smell it.”

Bucky does, and his eyes go misty. He blinks rapidly, but doesn’t try to hide that he’s nearly crying, at whatever it is the smell of the mead is conjuring in his mind. “Is this what I think it is?”

Natasha picks up the bottle, takes a sniff and passes it off to Sam, who does the same. “Oh shit, Thor sent you the good shit, didn’t he?”

Steve nods, and takes the bottle back when Sam hands it to him, both of them more than a little reverent. He takes a sip of the mead, and Bucky follows suit.

It takes like honey and happiness, just as it had smelled. Honey, and his Ma’s apple pie, and kissing Bucky, and happiness.

After Steve and Bucky have both had their sips of mead, they pass their glasses to Natasha and Sam, pour a bit more for each of them. He doesn’t ask what it smells like to them, and neither of them volunteers the information, but everyone is smiling after drinking it. 

Dinner is loud and happy and fun. Steve and Bucky have a few more glasses of the mead while Sam and Natasha stick to wine. Everyone ends up happily sloshed, even Natasha, and Steve doesn’t know if he’s ever actually seen her drunk. Not for real. Not not-pretending.

It’s been a long time since Steve was well and truly drunk, and it feels frankly amazing. He is drunk and happy, and he just married the love of his life again, and two of his closest friends were here for it, and it’s probably getting to be time for bed.

It’s well after midnight, and he doesn’t even know if they all counted down to the new year, or if he kissed his husband when the time came.

Sam and Natasha are curled up on the couch together at one end; Sam is snoring lightly, but Natasha is watching him as he stumbles to his feet and shambles his way to the kitchen.

Bucky is tidying up the kitchen, sipping at a glass of the mead.

The bottle, sitting on the counter, seems just as full as it was when they started.

“Buck why are you cleaning leave it for morning,” Steve says. Whines, really.

Bucky smiles at him over the dishes he’s scraping into the trash and piling in the sink. “Set up the coffee, Stevie. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“We all will.” But Steve obeys. Slowly, because he’s drunk and fuzzy with it. Drunk and happy, so happy.

Bucky comes up behind him while he’s carefully measuring the coffee grinds into the filter, counting under his breath. Comes up behind him and presses against him, sliding his arms around Steve’s waist, holding on.

“Hey, remember when you first came here?” he murmurs in Steve’s ear, pressing his lips against the soft skin at the back of Steve’s neck as punctuation, making him shiver.

Steve smiles, counts out the last scoop of coffee. “When we fucked on the floor?”

Bucky kisses him again, languid and tender, keeps kissing across the back of his neck. Steve shivers, and Bucky presses harder against him, tightens his arms a little. “That’s it.”

They sway a little, in the kitchen, both of them remembering. It’s almost a dance, swaying to music only they can hear.

“I’m glad you said yes,” Steve murmurs, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“When I asked, the first time. After the fireworks.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “Me too. I’m glad you said yes, this time.”

“Me too.”

They sway for a few moments more, and the Steve pats Bucky’s hands, on his stomach. “I need to get the water.”

“Ok.”

Steve moves towards the sink, and Bucky moves with him. Quietly in sync, they move there and back, and Steve pours the water into the coffee pot and hits the little button that sets the timer for the morning. 

“Time for bed,” Bucky murmurs in his ear. 

Steve turns in his arms. “We gonna have wedding sex?”

Bucky chuckles, starts walking him backwards towards their room. “Unlikely. You’re way too drunk for it.”

“Aw,” Steve drawls, smiling. “I could let you do all the work.”

Bucky laughs. “Aren’t you a sweetheart.” 

Steve sits abruptly, his knees had hit the bed. He flops back, grinning up at the darkness of the room. “Buuuuuck.”

Bucky strips him, efficient. It’s pretty clear that he’s not nearly as drunk as Steve is. Steve makes grabby hands, when Bucky straightens up again. Bucky just smiles down at him, while he takes off his own clothes. He stops when he’s in just his boxer briefs.

Steve whines. Bucky manhandles him around, and Steve lets him, until he’s under the covers, more or less, and then Bucky crawls into bed behind him, spooning up close and tight. Steve twists around in his arms, as much as Bucky will allow, kisses him.

Bucky hums against his lips, returning the kiss. “You taste like honey.”

“And happiness?” 

Bucky nods. “Yeah, Stevie. Honey and happiness.”

\----

He wakes up at the click of the bedroom door shutting again, and stirs a little, stretches out. He’s on his stomach, butt naked, the covers long since stolen from him by Bucky. He lifts his head and looks to Bucky’s side of the bed, where he’s cocooned himself in the blankets, like usual.

“Buck?”

Bucky makes a vague “mrmf?” noise.

“I think Natasha was watching us sleep.”

“Probably,” Bucky agrees, shifting so he can speak without it just being muffled by his pillow.

“I’m naked.”

“Sure are.”

“Our friend is a voyeur.”

Bucky shrugs. “You have a great ass, Stevie. Can you blame her?”

Just then, there’s a knocking on the door. “Breakfast is about ready,” Sam calls through the door. “Put some clothes on!”

Bucky chuckles, and Steve groans. “I don’wanna get up.”

Bucky moves over and throws his arm and some of the covers over Steve. “We’ll go be social today, Stevie. Our friends did come for our wedding, after all.”

Steve cuddles close to him. “I--”

Bucky smiles at him, kisses him soft and sweet. “Tomorrow we won’t get out of bed all day.”

**Author's Note:**

> belovedmuerto.tumblr.com


End file.
